The Years Between
by justlillie
Summary: PostHogwarts, PreEpilogue. Follow Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione as they enter their adult lives! All chapters now canon as of J.K. Rowling's latest interviews and the new documentary on her, so read the new version! chapter five up!
1. Chapter 1: Letters and Muggle Objects

**A/N: Whew! After a bunch of new interviews from J.K. Rowling on the post-Deathly Hallows situation, I've had to basically revamp the entire plot. Now I'm glad I didn't get to the start of term! Anyway, here is the new, canon-ified version of chapter 1!**

One sunny July morning, a rather unremarkable tawny owl flew above the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, its talons tied to two different letters addressed in emerald green ink. Flying across the clear, bright sky, it quickly approached its destination- what looked almost like an overgrown cottage and was in fact only held up by magic.

In this house, a teenage girl with flaming red hair stumbled sleepily down the stairs, where a girl with rather bushy brown hair was already reading her day's _Daily Prophet. _The tawny owl had passed by the Daily Prophet owl some time ago, and now it swooped down into the open kitchen window and landed on the table.

Hermione dropped her Daily Prophet and excitedly untied the letters from the impatient owl's leg, who was quite happy that this year delivering to the Weasleys' didn't mean an overly heavy load of letters. The owl flew away quickly as Ginny sat down next to Hermione.

"Are these our letters?" asked Ginny, even though she was aware of the answer. Grabbing hers, she tore it open somewhat lazily.

Ginny hadn't been the same since the battle—no one had. She seemed older somehow, her face thinner and less bright. Hermione, too, seemed to have a weight on her shoulders even though the wizarding world's greatest threat had been dead for two months.

Harry and Ron, both barely awake and in their pajamas, lumbered down the stairs and joined the girls. They too, were shaken from the war. Neither had gotten much sleep, which was hardly unusual considering the circumstances.

Harry looked curiously at the two letters- one addressed to Ginny, and the other addressed to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione opened the beige letter.

_"Dear Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger,_

_We would like to inform you that, if you so choose, you will be welcomed back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for your seventh year. Many of our students unable to attend the past school year due to Anti-Muggle-Born policies will be attending again this coming year, and we extend this invitation to the three of you, considering that in this rare instance, your mission in the past year has been far more important than schoolwork._

_The option is yours, and if do wish to attend this coming year, we will send you a list of schoolbooks immediately. We await your owl._

_Sincerely,_

_Prof. Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress"_

Harry blinked as he stared at the letter. He hadn't thought about going back to Hogwarts. It had been his home for so long, but—

"QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN!" Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Ginny's loud shriek.

"I've been made quidditch captain!" she exclaimed much more quietly, somewhat embarrassed by her outburst.

"Brilliant!" said Harry and Ron at the same time, while Hermione said "Congratulations!"

Footsteps were heard on the stairs, and another redhead trotted downstairs.

"I could've heard you from twenty miles away, Ginny," said George with a grin, which was much rarer nowadays. "You really could have been a _bit_ more discreet, oh, maybe turned it down to the roar of a dragon."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but couldn't think of a retort. "I wonder who's teaching Defense," she wondered aloud, changing the subject. "Honestly, they've got to run out of candidates sometime."

"Well, it's not as if there's a curse on it anymore," said Ron, "I mean, surely there's got to be some Auror or something. There's probably loads less to do now that Voldemort's dead."

"Well, I bet there are plenty of Death Eaters to round up now," said Hermione.

"Like the Malfoys," said Harry with a triumphant smirk.

"Speaking of rounding up Death Eaters, why did you get a Hogwarts letter, Harry?" asked George, looking at the letter that now resided in Harry's hand. "Aren't you starting Auror training?"

"McGonagall still sent us a letter inviting us back if we want to finish school."

"Yeah, I don't think she'd exactly kick you three out after all that. So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm still going into the Auror department," Harry said shortly.

"Me too," agreed Ron.

"Excellent!" said George smugly. "I wasn't much for finishing school either."

"I think I'm going to go back," said Hermione.

"Why?" asked George and Ron with curiosity.

"Well, seeing as I'm not joining the Auror department, I want to take my NEWTs and finish school."

"Well, that's Hermione for you," scoffed Ron. "Famous enough to get any job without NEWTs but wants to go study anyway."

Hermione shot an irritated glare at Ron. "Maybe _I_ don't want to skate my way through life just because I can use my fame to my advantage."

"You could do anything you wanted," said Harry. "We're the 'Golden Trio' now, apparently. No one would think twice about hiring you."

"We're only the 'Golden Trio' to the Rita Skeeters of the world. That doesn't make us better than anyone else."

Just then, Molly Weasley bustled into the kitchen.

"Oh, your letters are here!" she exclaimed before looking at them expectantly.

George saved them the trouble. "Ginny's Quidditch Captain, Harry and Ron are still going to be Aurors, and now Ron's arguing with Hermione because she wants to go back to Hogwarts for seventh year." Ron scowled at him, but George just shrugged.

"Hermione, I'm _very_ happy that you want to finish your education," said Mrs. Weasley before frowning at Ron. "And _you_ should respect her decision, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Hermione smiled a little too smugly.

"And congratulations, Ginny!" continued a suddenly cheery Mrs. Weasley, "I'm so proud of you—all of you! I suppose we'll have to go to Diagon Alley later. Now where is Arthur?" she wondered in vain. Mr. Weasley hadn't been around much lately, even when he was home from work.

"And Harry! Your birthday's only in a few days! We'll have to get something together…"

"No, you really don't need to," Harry interrupted.

"Nonsense! We'll have to do something!" Molly was rather intent on being as busy as possible, and in the past few months she never seemed to sit still. Harry supposed it was her way of coping with her son's death. He fleetingly recalled Mrs. Weasley's boggart, that summer three years before.

"_Crack. _Dead twins. _Crack. _Dead Percy. _Crack. _Dead Harry…" (OOTP, 176). He wondered if she had ever considered losing only one of the twins. It had seemed impossible to have one without the other.

The afternoon before Harry's birthday, Harry and Ginny headed back towards the Burrow after a long walk—well, it hadn't actually been a long walk, but that's what they were going to tell Ron. It had actually involved quite a bit of snogging.

They happily wandered into the kitchen holding hands (that is, of course, until they saw Ron), before sitting down in the living room. Mrs. Weasley was cooking dinner, and there was a wonderful smell of pumpkin and cinnamon wafting into the room. The kitchen doorknob turned, and a delighted but tired looking Mr. Weasley strode into the kitchen.

"You'll never believe it—" he said, slightly out of breath, "Kingsley's finally been made Minister!"

Mrs. Weasley practically squealed with delight. "How wonderful! We'll have to have him for dinner—in fact, why don't we make Harry's party a joint celebration! As a congratulations to Kingsley too!"

This was the first Harry had heard of any party, and he didn't have a particularly good feeling about it. Nevertheless, the next day decorations had managed to hang themselves up, and at precisely 6:00 people began to arrive.

The guests were a mixture of friends from the Order (which were many less now than before the start of the war) and Harry's friends from Hogwarts. Luna Lovegood had merely walked over (they saw her quite often now, partly because she was quite skilled at getting rid of the Rita Skeeter clones who so often camped out at the Burrow when the news was getting boring).

"Hello!" Luna said airily, a large present in her hands. "I'm sorry my father couldn't come. He had an important interview with a woman whose husband habitually turns into a pair of trainers," she continued breezily. Harry was glad—after his last meeting with Xenophilius Lovegood, he wasn't sure he wanted to see him again just yet.

With that, Luna and her radish earrings sauntered into the house, placing her present on the table. Soon after, several other members of the DA apparated to the house, a few with presents, others without. It didn't matter to Harry, as he was still uncomfortable with the entire arrangement.

As was to be expected, there was quite a ruckus when Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived, looking very dapper in deep blue robes. He smiled at Harry before Mrs. Weasley quickly ushered him outside to the table in the garden, where most everyone sat chatting loudly. Harry, however, was much more excited when Andromeda Tonks arrived with his godson in tow. Although Teddy was living with his grandmother (they had both agreed that although Harry had killed the darkest wizard of all time, he had no idea how to care for a baby), Harry took him on outings practically every other day—there was no stopping Harry from being the godfather Sirius was never able to be to him. He enthusiastically took Teddy in his arms and went into the living room.

While much of the former Order were sitting outside, the DA seemed to have situated itself inside the living room. Harry sat down between Neville and Ginny, who quickly asked to hold Teddy (she adored him, and had eagerly lapped up the role of godmother). The baby tended to always unintentionally change his hair and eye color, and when handed to Ginny, his hair turned to his mother's signature shade of bubblegum pink.

The room went oddly silent for a moment, as if in remembrance to Tonks.

"Well, how has everyone's summer been?" asked Luna, breaking the silence and leading to a slightly more awkward one. However, soon enough Neville launched on a funny anecdote about a crazy reporter kidnapping the escapee Trevor and wanting an interview in exchange for the toad. Everyone began talking about their summers—however trivial the conversation was, it was comforting. Normalcy had been difficult to come by, and somehow, however silly it was, talking about Neville's toad began a world where they didn't need to live in fear, and they could talk about blibbering humdingers or the latest broomstick models like they should have as normal teenagers years before.

For Harry, knowing that there was a future beyond fighting, a future for him and Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione, and Teddy—it helped to ease the pain of losing so many people, and knowing that many of those people had died to protect him.

The friends' conversation was interrupted, though, by Mr. Weasley, who came inside and said, "There you are, Harry! Molly's baked a cake, you know, you all should come outside—you can't miss your entire birthday party!"

They all stood up at the same time and filed outside, to where Mrs. Weasley was bringing out a large cake. It was not snitch-shaped like last year's, seeing as they were also celebrating Kingsley's appointment as Minister, but they all sang Happy Birthday to Harry anyway before grabbing several slices of cake each.

It was not a lavish celebration, nor was Harry's birthday as significant as last year's, but it seemed that everyone needed a bit of cheering up, and in that the party certainly fulfilled its purpose. As Harry walked around, cake in hand, he eventually ran into Kingsley.

"Harry!" said Kingsley in his deep, resonant voice. "So good to see you. We'd like you to start working on assignments soon."

"Assignments?" said Harry, slightly surprised. "Don't we have to go through training first?"

"Normally, yes. But we're at the stage where we're discovering more and more hiding places of the Death Eaters who weren't captured after the battle, and we need recruits now, not in three years. Besides," he added, "I think you've had plenty of experience already. More than enough to pass over training." Harry nodded in assent. "I'll send you both a message when we need you. And thank you, Harry," he said somberly. Harry nodded again with a sort of half-smile, half-grimace, but Kingsley was soon whisked away by Dedalus Diggle, who congratulated him yet again.

"Harry," called Ginny, who was walking up behind him. Harry grinned. "We've got something for you." she said, leading him out to the lawn.

"We?" he asked. "You know, you could have given me the same thing as last year, I'd definitely like another," he added mischievously.

"I think that could be arranged," Ginny replied with a roguish smile, "but there's something else for you."

A deafening rumble was then heard by the side of the house, and about half of the guests swiftly pulled out their wands and pointed them towards the sound (Harry included). Ginny laughed out loud at this, and Harry glanced over at her.

"It's just your present, Harry!" she said, laughing. "It's not a Death Eater in disguise!"

The roaring continued, and Arthur Weasley came into view, riding atop a gigantic motorbike. Harry's experiences with this motorbike hadn't been particularly pleasant, seeing as the first time he was on it as a baby, his parents had just been killed, and the second time, one year before, he had been chased by Voldemort, Hedwig and Mad-Eye Moody had died, and he had violently crashed into a pond.

Still, it had been Sirius' motorbike—one of the few possessions he had really liked. Harry recalled his godfather's room at Number Twelve, Grimmuald Place—Gryffindor banners, posters of Muggle girls, and plenty of motorbikes. He could see why Sirius had liked them so much; to someone raised in a wizarding family as anti-muggle as the Blacks, not only would a motorbike be a fascinating machine, but another way to rebel against his pretentious upbringing.

"It was a nasty piece of work after that crash, you know, but I thought I might as well give it a go!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley proudly.

"Arthur!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, "All this time you've hardly been in the house for a moment, and it's because you were _tampering with Muggle things_? I thought we'd agreed you'd stop fiddling with all of that!"

"Oh, no," said Ron quietly, "She's going to go absolutely bonkers…"

"When you said you'd _already gotten_ something for Harry, I'd assumed that—"

Harry decided to tune her out after that, and he turned to Ginny.

"Want to go for a ride on the motorbike?" he asked.

"I think that could also be arranged," she said. They both climbed onto the motorbike (which was rather large), and Harry and Ginny took off into the night sky.

**A/N: Wow, was that actually five whole pages on Word? Wow… I didn't know I actually possessed an attention span. Any reviews you have would be great, whether it's a comment or a suggestion for where the story should go next. Well, that's it for now!**


	2. Chapter 2: A Walk in the Rain

**Disclaimer: Honestly, do I really need to put up one of these? I'm not J.K. Rowling. Although it would be hilarious if she made a fanfiction account. Haha, that would be awesome, just to write fanfics for her own books anonymously and see how people like them! Unfortunately, I can't do that. Because I'm still not J.K. Rowling. Woo.**

**Onward!**

They sat next to a shining lake, the cool morning air sweeping upon them in a delicate breeze. It was peaceful, and Harry gazed out at the never-changing landscape. He turned to Ginny, and softly their lips met. Their kiss seemed to last forever. When they pulled apart, Harry noticed something. A striking diamond ring rested on Ginny's finger. Harry smiled. An engagement ring. Wait, he thought, he hadn't given her any engagement ring… Ginny looked at him uncomfortably. He glanced up to see none other than his cousin, Dudley, smiling at Ginny. She stood up and walked over to him, gazing at him in a way that was altogether sickening. Dudley and Ginny engaged? There was no way… no… that wasn't possible…

And it wasn't. Harry woke with a start, breathing heavily. That had been the _strangest_ dream yet. At least the dreams of Voldemort had been somewhat useful, he thought, thoroughly annoyed. When he got out of bed, though, he laughed at himself.

Ron was still asleep, and Harry walked out of the room, past Luna's present and downstairs. Her present had been the giant Gryffindor lion she'd made during her fifth year, and although it was an excellent piece of magic, someone constantly bewitched it to roar whenever Harry was asleep. Somehow he suspected George, and although he undid the charm, he kept it outside of Ron's room just in case and had Hermione create a Soundproofing Charm on the door.

Mrs. Weasley was already downstairs, and George was eating breakfast. He had just re-opened Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but he still lived at the Burrow, not ready to go back to the loft he and Fred had shared.

"Good morning, Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly, in a way that almost sounded fake. "We'll all be going to Diagon Alley today. Why don't you join us?"

"Yeah—that'd be fine."

George, apparently having finished his breakfast, stood up and started towards the door. "I'm going in to the shop early," he explained to Harry, "But I'll be there whenever you lot drop by." He then walked out the door, and Harry could hear the muffled crack from George disapparating.

The morning air was cool, and Harry walked outside, down closer to the village. He felt oddly uneasy striding down the Muggle sidewalks.

"Harry?"

He turned around quickly, only to find Ginny behind him. The teenagers walked for a while in silence, neither feeling the need to say anything. They just took in the scenery and enjoyed each other's company. After a while, Harry took hold of Ginny's hand, and she clutched on to his tightly. She kept her expression rigid and stared at the ground. It wasn't unusual—she had become gradually more distant each passing day. It had Harry worried, however.

The clouds above their heads were weighted with their heavy load, and within seconds the rain began to pour. Harry quickly transfigured an umbrella, but for Ginny this had apparently been the breaking point. She couldn't ignore her emotions anymore, or pretend that Fred's death hadn't changed her. Rare tears silently slid down her cheeks, mimicking the rain cascading down around them. Harry pulled her close to him, and she noiselessly cried into his robes. Harry had rarely seen her cry. Maybe she had after he'd left. He wasn't sure. All he knew now was that Ginny needed him more than he'd ever realized.

For ages they stood there together, soundlessly weeping for the people they'd loved and lost. His thoughts wandered to what Dumbledore had said to him in King's Cross, in the midpoint, he supposed, between life and death.

"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart."

Some souls were already maimed. Ginny's family had been torn apart, and nothing could stop him from feeling guilty. But as they stood together in the safe haven under his umbrella, he promised himself that he would try to heal the people he loved. He would live his life to the fullest for the people who hadn't been able to, and he wanted Ginny with him each step of the way.

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered.

"I know," she replied, eyes shining with tears, and she kissed him softly, not wanting to ever let go.

**A/N: Lol. I am very truly sorry for stealing the line from Star Wars. Nah, not really. I just couldn't resist. Tee hee. I just kept playing that scene over and over in my head, with all the dramatic music and everything, with Han being all "I know,", and then the storm troopers dragging him away….lol….I couldn't resist…. I'm still laughing. I'm so weird. **

**Yeah, I have no idea what Harry's dream was about… I had this whole fluffy-sappy romance dream sequence going, but then I just had my wickedly evil idea to screw it all up… again, couldn't resist. It's so much fun to mess with fictional characters…**

**Once more, fanfiction is teaching me new things about myself. It was odd enough to figure out I have the attention span to write 5 whole pages on MS word, but now I have the ability to write sappy romance scenes? Well, it wasn't too sappy, the effort would probably have killed me. But I tried, which is strange in itself.**

**Sorry, this one turned out ridiculously short, but I don't think I've got it in me at the moment to continue. Partially because every five minutes I practically hyperventilate because I'm so excited about Season 3 of Avatar. Like, it practically gives me a panic attack I'm so excited… what on earth is wrong with me?! Other than the usual, of course. Updates will also depend on how much homework I get this week… lol… And I may be freaking out for the entire weekend over the Season premiere. Seriously, this is weird. I don't think I've ever been to this level of fangirl insanity. It's freaking me out even more…**

**Next chapter will be Diagon Alley, and I've had this one in my head for a while so I think it'll be longer and take less time to get up.**

**Finally, I'd like to thank my two reviewers- Autumn Skys and Dueler 312. You are my sunshine. Or something like that. Not that I don't love those of you who faved/ alerted it. But I do like reviews. Okay, now I seriously need to end this A/N before it gets longer than the chapter itself!**


	3. Chapter 3: Quality Quidditch Supplies

**A/N: To Emily! Glad you've finally been corrupted by the eeevil world of fanfiction! Muahaha!**

The early afternoon found Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron in Diagon Alley. They walked as inconspicuously as possible towards the side, but they couldn't avoid the stares and whispers as people pointed them out to their friends. A witch pointed Harry out to her small little girl, and the girl's eyes flicked up to Harry's forehead. He quickly moved his hair in front of his scar and led Ginny forward. 

The group walked down the alley, avoiding bright camera flashes, and Harry hurried past Eeylops Owl Emporium, not daring to glance at the snowy owl he knew would be in the window.

"Okay," said Harry, "first we'll go to Gringotts, and— "

"Gringotts." Ron interrupted with a grimace, gesturing at the suddenly menacing white building at the end of the alley. Harry's heart dropped to his stomach. He'd forgotten about Gringotts, and he was fairly sure they wouldn't exactly welcome them in after their last adventure into the bank…

"Ron!" said a voice, and they all turned (plus a few onlookers) to see Bill hurrying down the steps of Gringotts and towards the young wizards. His ginger hair in its customary ponytail and yet another fang dangling from his ear, he explained the situation.

"Mum told me you all'd be coming today," he said once he'd gotten close enough, and they followed him warily to the bank. "Anyway, the goblins obviously weren't too happy after that escapade of yours--" he said with a grin, "you know how they are. But for now we've managed to get everything sorted out— Charlie sent in a couple of good Romanian dragons, all though, mind you, he wasn't too happy to let 'em go after he figured out their conditions. Still, they'll leave you alone for now. Just expect some very icy stares!" he said as they opened the silver doors and walked into the main lobby.

Heading to the counter, they found some goblins to assist them. They started to back away before the wizards could speak to them, but a raised eyebrow from Bill and they grudgingly got to work.

"Oh, I've got to go," said Bill, looking at his pocketwatch as the rest set off for their respective vaults. "Meeting Fleur—see you all later—got to go—" he said distractedly and quickly Disapparated. Ginny smirked and rolled her eyes at Harry.

As a still-unwilling goblin lead him to his vault, Harry realized something. Ginny's birthday was in three days. What am I supposed to do, he thought to himself. I don't know about birthday presents, I'm going to get her something completely wrong and… relax, he told himself. This is not something to worry about. He thought back to _12 Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. _There was something about gifts… "_Think about the witch's interests. What are her hobbies and passions, and what would she use often? She may have even dropped a hint to you already. If she's talked about something specific, then she might be hinting that she wants you to get it for her." _He silently thanked Ron for what was definitely one of the more useful gifts he'd ever gotten; it certainly beat Hagrid's biting monster book by quite a bit…

He traveled back up to the lobby. No one else had gotten back yet, and he quickly left the bank (not too quickly though, as he did want to remain invisible to all the curious onlookers). Invisible. Why hadn't he brought his invisibility cloak? He certainly wished he had now that people enjoyed staring at him even more than usual.

He swiftly walked past Madam Malkin's and Flourish and Blott's before ducking nto Quality Quidditch Supplies, a warm-colored shop that was luckily empty. He hadn't been in here in a while, although he had visited often when he stayed at the Leaky Cauldron before his third year. The man at the counter, a grey-haired, stout but friendly looking man quickly noticed him and bustled over. His eyes flicked ever-so-subtly to Harry's forehead before he made eye contact.

"Patrick Dunnagan," The man held out his hand, pretending he didn't already know who Harry was.

"Harry Potter," Harry shook Dunnagan's hand.

"So, Mr. Potter, what can I interest you in today?" said Dunnagan, clearly trying not to beam at the prospect of meeting Harry.

"Well, I'm just looking for a broomstick," he said, realizing a bit too late that it was rather obvious, considering he was, in fact, standing in a broomstick shop.

"Ah. Yes. Well, we have several excellent new models—" began the man, "But, pardon my asking, aren't you already in possession of a Firebolt? Not that there's anything wrong with having two broomsticks," he added quickly, not wanting to ruin a sale.

"Actually, I lost my Firebolt a while back. Almost a year ago."

"Ah! What a pity. Excellent model, although slightly outdated now, I must say," he said. "Might I ask how the Firebolt was lost?" he asked, unable to control his curiosity.

"It was last summer," he began, deciding how many Order-related details he could leave out without making the story unclear. "I was being transported, er, from my Aunt and Uncle's, and I wasn't riding on my broom because the Death Eaters would expect that. Anyway, they found out about me being moved, and they attacked. The Firebolt fell out of the sidecar I was riding in and probably crashed into the ground."

"How awful…" said Dunnagan, the sort of man passionate enough about his business to mourn a lost broomstick of particular quality. "Let me show you some of our newer models!" he quickly recovered, motioning for Harry to follow him.

He showed Harry numerous models, including a newer Firebolt model that would probably cost twice what was in his already-large bank account, some other high-end professional quality brands, a few Cleansweeps, a Comet Three Twenty, and the latest of the Nimbus series.

"And this is the Nimbus 3000," said Dunnagan, "The newest Nimbus model, and really quite excellent craftsmanship, not to mention performance, especially for a Quidditch player," he said pointedly. Harry listened to the pros and cons of the broom, held it, and eventually: "I'll take two, please."

He handed the brooms over the counter. "Excellent, Excellent!" said Dunnagan, quite proud of himself. Harry paid him, asking, "Do you think you could deliver these by owl?"

"Of course! We have overnight owl shipping, although if you need it faster, I—"

"Could you have them delivered on the eleventh?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Potter, absolutely! Straightaway on the eleventh, then! I'll just put these in the back…"

Later, Harry walked back out into the main street, crossing over to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Apparently this was an accurate guess as to where everyone was, as when he walked in he was greeted with more than a few calls of "Where were you, Harry?". Harry looked around at the new products, grabbing quite a few Skiving Snackboxes before watching moving miniature dragon with shiny, pearlescent scales.

"Candy Dragons," said Lee Jordan, who had just walked into the room. "Charlie convinced us to make them... tasty, but you never know which ones breathe fire. I've been working here, by the way," he added, "George needed a bit of help, of course…"

"I heard Potterwatch," said Harry with a grin.

"Excellent! We hoped you would. 'Course, with You-Know-Who gone and all, I'm on to a new project. Not sure what I'm going to call it, but you know Muggle televisors?"

"Televisions?" Harry corrected, wondering if Lee's muggle-objects education had anything to do with Mr. Weasley.

"Right. Well, George and I are working on bewitching one of them and making a wizard station, like the WWN is for wirelesses."

"Brilliant!"

"I know," he said smugly. "Plus, great moneymaker now that sales of those anti-hex clothes have gone down."

Harry finished stocking himself with various joke shop goods and checked out, along with Ron and Hermione. Together they went outside and Disapparated back to the Burrow.

"Great," said Ginny sardonically, before asking George for some Floo powder. "I hate being sixteen."

**A/N:**

**Lol. Ginny. I just wish there were more opportunities for them to forget Ginny can't Apparate. ****Also, for those of you who don't know, August 11****th**** is Ginny's birthday.**

**I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP, but I don't know when that'll be considering exams are next week. Not good… Anyway, after that is break, and I want to get a bunch done! ****I also apologize for not updating since like… September. My classes have kept me annoyingly busy.**

**Next Chapter: Ginny's 17th birthday! Also, maybe a bit of Rita Skeeter, I want to fit her in. ...muahahah...**


	4. Chapter 4: Snogging is Not Acceptable

**A/N: Okay, due to a lot of new info from J.K.R, I've basically had to revamp most of the plot (luckily I hadn't gotten far enough for it to really make an impact on what I've already written—I just had to do quite a bit of re-planning)**

**I've canon-ified all the chapters so far so they are now accurate and canon as of everything Jo's told us! Yay! The only real changes are in Chapter one, so go back and read that before you read this.**

**And Caroline, I dedicate this chapter to you, because you asked me to. COUGH I mean because you're my friend!! Heheh. Smooth….**

Harry turned in the darkness, only to face his godfather.

"Harry," said Sirius, his weary eyes suddenly lighting up. Harry stood, dumbfounded. "Sirius?" he said, blinking rapidly. "SIRIUS!" Harry ran over to his godfather and embraced him.

"Harry, I've missed you far too much," said Sirius warmly.

"Sirius—how did you—I thought…YOU!" Harry bellowed suddenly, his eyes looking past his godfather and into the red eyes of Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort chuckled with mirth, his pale lips curving into a sadistic sneer. Mist vaguely rolled around his pitch-dark robes. Harry reached for his wand and lunged for Voldemort, placing his wand under the Dark Lord's chin and pressing it against his impossibly white neck.

"I killed you," said Harry, his voice thick with rage. Voldemort continued to laugh in his horrible high-pitched manner.

"Ah yes, but you forget," he said, his crimson eyes narrowing with glee, "I killed all of _them_."

Voldemort gestured around, and Harry broke his eye contact to look at his surroundings. They were standing in a prison, and in the jail cells around them, Lupin, Tonks, Cedric, Fred, his parents, Dumbledore—and the cells continued on and on in every direction, filled with the people he'd lost.

"You see?" said Voldemort, his cruel smile broadening. "You've come too late. You've lost. All of them."

And one by one they crumpled to the floor, each prisoner staring at Harry in horror before they shuddered and fell.

"I'm sorry, Harry…" said Sirius. "It's too late to change the past." And he too crumpled to the ground, broken.

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed, and he opened his eyes to the ceiling of Ron's room, the imaginary screaming stopping short. He sat up, breathing heavily, and saw Ron across from him with an alarmed look on his newly woken face.

"You okay, mate?" asked Ron, whose eyes seemed to be struggling to stay open.

"Yeah… I'm fine," Harry replied before lying back down on the bed. He looked out the window. Outside it was still dark, but from the clock next to him he could see it was early morning. Before long Harry heard Ron's snores again, and he quietly shifted his weight and crept off the bed and out of the room. The door shut softly behind him.

He sat on the floor in the kitchen for awhile, watching the sun rise through the open window and listening for the smallest flutter of owl wings. Ginny's broom was to be delivered this morning, as well as his own. Just as he began to fall into daydreams of quidditch, a dark-colored owl flew into the kitchen. It held a large broom-shaped package in its talons, and appeared to be carrying its load with difficulty. A tawny owl flew in after it with another package, and they dropped both broom-packages onto the kitchen table with a loud thud. Harry winced. _That was sure to wake someone up_, he thought, quickly picking the wrapped-up brooms up off the table and scouting out someplace to hide them.

Still looking, he didn't notice the soft footsteps coming down the stairs. Too late, he turned around to face Ginny, who was rubbing her eye sleepily.

"Happy Birthday," said Harry sheepishly.

"Thanks," mumbled Ginny, whose eyes then fell on the packaged brooms and opened rapidly. She looked at Harry expectantly.

"What are those?" she asked mischievously.

"Possibly… a birthday present I didn't have time to hide."

"Ah. Thought so. So do I get them now?"

"Actually, you're only getting one of them."

"So you have some other girlfriend to give the other to? I knew I should have kept a lookout for veela."

"I'm keeping the other one. I lost my Firebolt last year, remember?"

"Yeah. I remember," said Ginny with a grimace, and Harry thought back to the Order members flashing into the yard outside, shining blue from their portkeys for the slightest moment. All but Mad-Eye, that is. Harry thought of Hedwig, falling in her cage after a flash of green light not meant for her—

"Harry?" said Ginny. She eyed him for a split second, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. When their eyes met, though, she quickly brightened.

"So, do I get to unwrap it?"

Minutes later, they were soaring through the air, racing each other at breakneck speed across the Weasleys' land. They were at each others' level now, repeatedly glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Harry hadn't realized how much he missed riding on a broom. Ginny suddenly had a grin on her face far too wide to be innocent, and she rapidly dove downward at an angle Harry thought hardly possible. He swore loudly (although it was lost to the wind), and halted in midair before diving right after her. Harry turned rapidly to the right, left, right again, and he was close, so close, to being directly on her left if he could catch her in a turn in the right direction—suddenly, Ginny stopped, and Harry soared far ahead before even realizing it. He was out of practice.

Ginny, still grinning, lowered the broom to the ground outside the Burrow, and Harry followed suit.

"Harry, are you actually out of breath?" laughed Ginny. Harry mock-glared at her.

"So, do I take that to mean you like it?"

"I think you could," she said brightly before kissing him.

"OY!" said Ron, who had chosen an inconvenient time to walk out of the kitchen. Harry and Ginny jumped apart, slightly pink in the face.

"Honestly, Ron, you have really horrid timing," said Ginny, who was now quite red in the face (the same shade Ron's ears had become, as a matter of fact).

Ron quickly forgot about his bad timing, however, when he caught sight of the two new broomsticks. His eyes widened in awe.

"Wh—what are those?" he said, marveling.

"This," said Ginny, "is a Nimbus 3000. And I _might_ have let you have a go if you hadn't been so rude just now."

"Oh, what, so if I walk out of the kitchen door and you and Harry happen to be snogging, it's entirely my fault?" said Ron mockingly.

"Exactly," said Ginny, and Ron glared at her.

"It doesn't matter anyway," said Ron, "Harry's got one, I'll just take his for a go, then."

Harry handed over the broom quickly.

"Merlin's Beard…" said Ron, examining the Nimbus, "This is really top-notch." He then took off into the air with a whoop, effortlessly gliding through the sky.

"Well," said Ginny matter-of-factly, "Now we know how to distract Ron if he ever catches us snogging again."

"Let's hope he doesn't," said Harry shortly, and Ginny snorted.

"Yeah, you can hope, Harry, but Ron's better than Umbridge at detecting snogs. And Umbridge is _good._ I know from experience," she added grudgingly.

"Now that I think about it, I _did_ see you in detention a lot that year."

"I'm just glad the scars faded. Mum would've killed me if she'd seen what I'd gotten in trouble for."

"Can I see your hand?"

"No, I told you, you can't see it anymore," said Ginny, pulling her hand away.

"Well, what did it say?"

"Snogging in corridors is unacceptable," mumbled Ginny reluctantly. Harry burst out laughing.

xxxbreakthingyofdoomxxx

Days later, Harry and Ron navigated through the echoing atrium of the Ministry of Magic, avoiding the stares they gathered all too easily nowadays. The place unsettled Harry— everything echoed, bounced off of each other, the light, sound, the people gathering together to chat before work and scattering again. And all too many people bounced towards him; at this rate, they'd never get to the lift.

Ron and Harry quickly ducked into one of the lifts, surprised that it seemed roomier than the huge atrium on the outside. Then again, no one else had gotten on the lift. There seemed to be a bubble around the two no one dared to venture past (with the exception of inter-departmental airplane memos). That is, until the elevator opened at the fourth floor.

_"Level four," _crooned the female ministry voice_, "Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."_

Rita Skeeter flounced into the elevator, pursing her lips in what Harry supposed was a smile. She spotted Harry and her lips continued to smile wider, her quick-quotes quill hovering just above her crocodile-skin handbag.

"Harry!" she doted, "Our precious hero!" Harry grimaced. "First day at the new job, it must be _so_ exciting. You just _have_ to do an interview, darling, the wizarding world is begging on their knees to know the story and I _insist_ on— "

"I'm not interested in an interview."

"Oh, don't be modest, you just have to let me—"

"I don't think I have to let you do anything," said Harry, "If you'll excuse me, this is my floor, and I have to work."

Rita looked like she distinctly did not wish to excuse him, but at the first sound of the ministry witch's voice Ron and Harry marched out of the lift, leaving her looking quite shocked and mutinous.

They continued down the hall, passing through the bright sunlight from the enchanted windows that contrasted greatly with the gloomy weather Harry knew was above ground. Turning the corner, they quietly slipped through the oak doors to the Auror office. Harry vaguely remembered this part of the department from when he went to work with Mr. Weasley before his hearing in fifth year—the abundance of cubicles was certainly the same. People were chattering loudly, going to other people's cubicles or talking over the tops of their own about paperwork and dark wizards.

"Yes, we've got another tip about the Lestrange brothers," said an wiry-haired wizard, who Harry recognized as Dawlish, to the person in the next cubicle. "They've supposedly been sighted near Edinburgh,"

"Everywhere, aren't they," replied the other, exasperated. "First Dublin, then—" The man paused, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Harry and Ron. Dawlish turned around, recognition on his face as his eyes flicked to Harry's forhead. He quickly strode forward.

"John Dawlish," he said, sticking out his hand.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, shaking Dawlish's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Potter," said Dawlish briefly before turning to Ron and introducing himself again.

Soon enough, they were shaking hands with just about everyone in the department. Harry noticed many young faces among the older, battle scarred ones—it was all too easy to tell the difference, and he couldn't help but wonder how many Aurors had been lost in the war.

Kingsley Shacklebolt soon rescued them from greeting what now seemed like the entire department.

"All right, everyone," he said with a smirk, "I think you lot have plenty of work to do. You'll meet our new recruits in due course." The Aurors grudgingly went back to their respective cubicles, and the minister motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him.

"I may be minister now," said Kinglsey, "but you'll be hearing from me quite a lot. The Auror department is one of our busiest right now, and I'm quite involved in our hunt for Death Eaters. Cleaning up this mess is our priority. Ah, but here we are. Your new offices," he said, gesturing to two of the cubicles near the corner, "and here is Mr. Longbottom's".

As if on cue, Neville walked out of a third cubicle to greet a stunned looking Harry and Ron.

"You're an Auror, too?" exclaimed Harry.

"Yeah," said Neville proudly, "They've been in need of more recruits, and I wanted to help."

"Blimey, Neville, why didn't you tell us before?" asked Ron.

"Well, I wasn't entirely sure if I was going to come, I—"

"—OUCH!" cried Kingsley, interrupting their conversation. All three new Aurors turned and pointed their wands at the intruding… paper airplane. They quickly lowered their wands, and Kingsley rubbed the side of his head, where this paper airplane had presumably hit him.

"Merlin's beard, half these workers can't even do a decent charm," said an annoyed Kinglsey, who then opened the memo. "Ah… yes…" he muttered, his eyes quickly scanning over the page, "Right then. Sorry, I've got to run. Urgent business. Longbottom, will you show these two around?" he continued, before rushing off, muttering something about Bulgarians.

"Yeah. Well then," said Neville, "these are our cubicles, of course. You two can pick either of those, and this one's mine. We're allowed to decorate them however we want so long as it's nothing that could make the department look bad."

Harry took the cubicle next to Neville's , and Ron walked into the one on his other side. It was quite empty and grey, save a desk in the corner. Which, on second thought, was also grey.

"Nice color scheme they've got going, eh?" remarked Ron from the next cubicle. The sound carried considerably, probably due to the lack of actual walls; Harry could hear quite a few conversations in the cubicles around him.

"We're being put on beginner assignments at the moment really, sort of tagging along on different field jobs, you know," said Neville. "Lots of fighting, hopefully, so that's a plus. We're not officially on one case or the next, but we're sort of being juggled around to whoever needs help so that we can learn procedure."

"Right. Thanks Neville," said Harry. He paused, looking around for a moment. Ron walked into the cubicle.

"Now what?" he asked them.

"I don't really know, actually… " said Neville, "I only got here this morning". They all glanced around idly for a moment, unsure as to whether or not they could explore the department or if they needed to be at their desks.

"Where does everybody eat around here, anyway?" asked Neville.

"Dunno," said Harry. "Maybe there's a Cafeteria?" He looked at Ron pointedly.

"What are you looking at me for? I don't have a clue either!"

"Well, your dad works here, so I thought you might know."

Neville twiddled his thumbs, and Harry stared at a crack in the cubicle wall.

"Well, another action-packed day at the job, I guess," mused Ron. "I think we should go find that cafeteria."

-xxxbreakthingyofdoomxxx-

A/N: Lol, me trying to figure out what Aurors actually do at work resulted in the above conversation. I'm still trying to work it out, actually. Part of the reason this chapter took so long. I'm getting there.

The whole Auror situation is sort of confusing me, but I think I've got it worked out. J.K. Rowling said that Harry, Ron, and Neville are all recruited by the Auror Dept. But obviously, Neville teaches at Hogwarts later, and Rowling has said twice that Ron spends his adult career at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. So I'm guessing that all three spend their early careers as Aurors, basically whipping everybody the department into shape during the post- voldy death eater capture rush, and then Harry is the only one who stays after several years (he eventually becomes head of the department in '07) , and then Ron goes to help George and Neville becomes a Professor. That's the only solution that makes sense to me. So all three will be Aurors for now, unless somebody has a better idea…

Oh, and I'm really excited about the whole George-marries-Angelina Johnson thing. Yay! Makes me happy. So cute. And, of course, Hermione going back to Hogwarts—I was surprised about that one, I really thought it would be all three going back or none.

Next chapter: Hogwarts Express and mystery cliffhanger! Oooh, aahh. Sort of. Well, review if you liked the chapter, as it makes me happy. Or rather, it makes me don't review it cause I never know what to put and I fave/alert it instead, but I repent! Oh, no, this karma, isn't it. I guess I should review other fanfics more, then.

Oh, and P.S. to Caroline: I hope you like this chapter, because it took forever. See you at school tomorrow. Be ready for that test. I should be studying, but I'm not. Sorry, South Asia.


	5. Chapter 5: Dead Skin Cells are Mean!

King's Cross station was busy as usual. Muggles gallivanted around, checking their tickets every two seconds and walking about, their heads high, discreetly ignoring everyone else in the station. This, of course, made it a perfect location for a large number of not-so-discreet people to blend in.

Harry liked King's Cross even more now, even if it wouldn't be taking him to his real home this time. Nobody was staring. Which was quite a relief, thank you very much. Just a little flick of the hair across his forehead to cover the scar and he blended in quite nicely. Harry decided he quite liked muggles in general. Pleasant people. Pleasantly absorbed in things other than lightning-shaped scars and Boy-Who-Liveds. He and Ron, who had strode ahead of the others, casually leaned on the brick wall of platform nine and three quarters before stepping backwards into the domain of the Hogwarts Express. It was an odd sensation, being here without a huge King's Cross trolley with Hedwig sitting in her cage on top of his school trunk and hooting indiscriminately at passerby. Harry found himself so absorbed in this odd sensation that he didn't notice that he was standing far, far too close to that brick wall.

"Merlin, Harry!" cried Ginny, moving her cart away as Harry swore loudly in an attempt to keep his balance (which in turn caused several new first years to whip their heads around in shock). "You all right? Honestly, standing right next to the wall—what were you _thinking_? Oh no, now I sound like my mother…" she added quietly as Mrs. Weasley herself burst through the barrier, Ron, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley trailing behind her.

They were all a tad late, and there were very few people still left on the platform besides the shocked first years. Although Harry supposed they might actually be younger siblings wishing others off. Next to him, Hermione seemed quite panicked at the time.

"Oh _no!_" she cried, staring at the quickly-filling train, "I'm supposed to be in the Prefects' compartment to give instructions!" She exchanged goodbyes and hurried into the train with her bags (though not after giving Ron a quick kiss, which gave his face a very pinkish hue until they left the platform).

"Well, I guess I've got to go then," said Ginny, looking after her. Mrs. Weasley looked quite teary.

"Wait!" said Harry, who pulled out what looked like a bit of old parchment. He handed it over to Ginny, who looked puzzled for a moment before cottoning on. The bit of old parchment was the Marauder's Map that Fred and George had given to Harry in her third year.

"Tap it and say 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good' to open it," said Harry in an undertone, "and 'Mischief Managed' to wipe it blank".

"Thanks," she said in a matching undertone, looking up at him with an impish smile beginning to play on her lips.

"Write me?" asked Harry before she could turn around.

"I'll see what I can do," replied Ginny, the impish smile breaking into a full-out grin. She waved good-bye to her parents and then winked at Harry before sauntering onto the train.

Ron seemed particularly relieved as Ginny's trunk floated in behind her. Harry supposed it was because he and Ginny hadn't burst out snogging in the middle of the platform, which would probably have given Ron a heart attack. The train began to move, slowly at first, but gradually faster and faster, the waving hands inside the windows becoming a tan blur.

WHOOSH! Harry felt a pang of disappointment as the last of the train raced by. He turned around after a moment, automatically brushing his hair back over his scar.

"Well, shall we Apparate, then?" said Mr. Weasley, after emerging from an engaging conversation with his wife, which he had conveniently started right at the moment Harry and Ginny started talking (Harry had to admire the man's ability to know when he was not wanted as an eavesdropper). The others nodded, and with four loud pops they vanished.

A few days later, Ron and Harry were sitting in Ron's bedroom at the Burrow, staring at the large Chudley Cannons posters on the wall. The constant bottom-of-the-league team was in their best bright orange uniforms, switching through goofy poses that were probably not meant to look goofy.

"You know, we should probably move out," said Ron as the Chudley seeker waved at them exorbitantly.

"Yeah," agreed Harry, "Probably."

"Well, where do we go? Grimmuald Place?"

Harry twiddled his thumbs absently. He was a bit apprehensive about going back to Grimmuald Place. "Mm-hm," he mumbled noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders.

"Kreacher'll be happy," said Ron lazily. Kreacher had been working at Hogwarts after Harry and Ron heartily agreed that Mrs. Weasley needed to be the boss of her own kitchen, which was her only haunt after Fred's death. It would be nice, he figured, to have a house-elf around again. Especially if Hermione was too far away to hand out S.P.E.W. badges to every visitor.

"Yeah. Grimmuald Place, I guess."

--909090-lamebarrierthinggoeshere-93999333--

Despite Mrs. Weasley's protests ("Doesn't want an empty nest," said Ron), in a week all of their things managed to get themselves into boxes without Hermione's help. Neville came to help them move, and George briefly, but he had to pop in and out to check on the shop and eventually left altogether to deal with someone who had let open the entire cage of miniature puffskeins. It wasn't too difficult to move, as they both didn't have huge amounts of things and they mostly just Apparated back and forth with different boxes. Harry summoned Kreacher back from Hogwarts to help them move, and by the time all the boxes were out of the Burrow all five (house elf included) heartily agreed that Mad-Eye's old Dumbledore-ghost definitely needed to go.

Saying and doing turned out to be very different things, however, as the powerful Auror turned out to have been quite a good spellweaver.

"Maybe if we flicked our wands just a little bit more to the left," threw out Neville after work one day. Harry and Ron grumbled in assent and tried their latest spell again with a little left flick of the wrist. No such luck. Ron fumbled through spellbook number twenty-seven again. They had tried just about everything—spells, potions, George had even thrown a couple of Wheezes things around the room just to see if something would happen. Nothing, so far, had happened, however, aside from Ron tripping over the troll-foot umbrella stand after George had immersed the room in Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Ron had then thrown a flowerpot at George, who flicked his wand and sent it crashing out the window. That had been difficult to fix.

"I give up," said Ron in exasperation. "Why don't we just write Hermione and have her figure it out?" No one had any objections to that, and Harry thought it was probably the best plan they had thought of so far.

It was a few days before an owl arrived from Hogwarts, carrying letters from both Hermione and Ginny. Ron opened Hermione's parchment and began to read aloud. "_Dear Ron,_" he began, "_It's very odd here without you and Harry'…_ mmhmm… uh-huh… '_classes are quite difficult but they do keep us busy_'… she didn't say who the new Defense professor is, I'll have to write her back and ask…" Ron trailed off, turning rather crimson as he silently read the next part of the letter. He quickly coughed and shrugged before continuing. "Right, here's the bit about old Dusty-dore… '_I've been looking into curse-like enchantments for you in the library_'… '_I've finally found something similar to what Moody put on the house, and I think this might be exactly what we're looking for_'… Excellent, she's got some spells here." Ron handed a second piece of parchment to Harry, who looked it over. It contained a sequence of spells and instructions, with Hermione's precise handwriting interrupting in small notes around the page.

He handed the paper back to Ron and opened the letter from Ginny.

"_Dear Harry,_

_Sorry I haven't written sooner—classes have kept us all very busy. I don't know if you knew this already, but the new Defense teacher is Professor Jones— Well, her first name's Hestia, she was in the Order and I think she knows you, actually. She's a pretty good teacher, really nice all of the time, and she adores Hermione, of course. I never quite realized what it was like having Hermione in the same year as you—now that she's in all my classes I can't help but notice that every time the teacher asks a question she's the only one that knows the answer. I swear, I never want to fight Hermione. The girl can whip her hand out so fast I'd be jinxed into oblivion before I could reach into my pocket. It's actually pretty fun having a lot of your year in our classes (with the added benefit of none of them being Slytherin). Basically, everybody Muggle-born in your year is in ours now, and some of the muggle-borns in other years got held back to the year they missed. Like Demelza Robins—she wasn't here last year so she's back in fourth year and all her friends are in fifth. She was quite uspet about it, actually, but I think she's happy to be back. She's been asking me about Quidditch tryouts like a madwoman, and I honestly don't know when I should hold them. We only just got back!_

_What else is there? Oh, and most of us old DA members have been eating in the Room of Requirement. Nobody really wants to eat in the Great Hall… obviously. Practically half the school was sobbing during the opening feast. Anyway, now we've converted the Room of Requirement into a nice little utopia. A lot like how it was last year, only there are more tables, and we get the house elves to bring us food. Well, actually, Hermione doesn't let us have them bring it, so one of us will go down to the kitchens before a meal and pile food on a giant tray to levitate up to the seventh floor. Hermione is sort of all right with that. _

_Well, that's all I've got for now, so write me back with some exciting Auror adventure. _

_Much Love,_

_Ginny."_

"Accio Parchment." Harry got out his quill and some ink and began to write his response. Unfortunately, his only exciting Auror adventures so far had been trying to fight a dust cloud and being hit in the head several times by those inter-departmental paper airplanes. He supposed it would have to do.

**A/N: Yes! The return of the Internet!**

**Hm…not much to talk about, really. Although you can expect future updates much quicker – my laptop's internet spontaneously died and now is back up again for some reason-- oh wait, no it just died again-- wait, now it's back up! Gah… my laptop really does hate me.**

**Oh, and I think last chapter I said this one would have a cliffhanger...er, oops! I lied! I'm saving it for later! **

**Flicka.-.Boots: Yeah, I went and looked that up… interesting. So I looked at a couple of other sources and I think whoever (whomever?) wrote the article just interpreted Rowling's words differently than I did (I went by the HP lexicon's interpretation), cause she hasn't given any post-DH interviews I haven't read. Woahhhh. I feel stalkerish now. Err. I just like accurate fanfics?**

**Anyway, so I'm going to keep it how it is (cause I'm still confuzzled… everybody's saying something different!), but seriously, thank you for pointing that out! I give thee an invisible cookie.**

**Oh, and Caroline, Ron's flowerpot is for you.**


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